Bourbon & Ice
by juuniji
Summary: Closing his eyes against the cruel vision of pernicious honesty was something he always did and always had and he saw no reason not to do. So why would this time be any different?


Title: Bourbon & Ice

Rated: T

Characters: Grumbuskin x Bill Bailey, Tumblebrutus

Disclaimer: Characters copyrighted RUG.

Notes: Story contains mild slash between a minor and an adult. Even though nothing illicit by human standards happens, if the idea makes you uncomfortable I recommend you to leave now. Furthermore, this is the result of me playing around with JestaAriadne's couple generator. Text in normal font is present and text in italics is past. Enjoy!

- - -

**Bourbon & Ice**  
_For the those who have been acquainted with the seven seas,  
But have never sounded the depth within their hearts_

- - -

Grumbuskin felt in dire need of a beer.

There was a promise that kept bugging his mind, one of the kinds that not only broke when they failed to be kept, but also remained within you in their shattered state for the longest time. Grumbuskin had never been acquainted with them on previous occasions. As a matter of fact, he had never made any valid promises before. This was partly so because he had avoided making them in the first place and partly so because he never had believed keeping records of clean consciences were worth the hassle when it came down to it in the end. It was very easy to coax that little voice inside yourself to quit talking about should-haves and should-nots. Eventually, you succeeded in making it shut up for good. Free of guilt, free in mind.

But now it seemed like it all came rushing back to him. Years of lies and manipulations dressed as honest words kept washing up upon the shore, washing away layers of sand and revealing all the dirt that lay underneath. He felt them like sharp-edged pebbles creating friction as they rubbed against his mind. Just enough to create an infernal itching that never stilled, but grew in intensity the more he concentrated on not concentrating on it.

The thought of the one promise he had broken.

- - -

_Grumbuskin had cleared his voice and caught Bill Bailey's immediate attention. "This far, but not longer" he may have declared, but on the other hand, he may have not. They had been standing in front of the gates that marked the entrance of the junkyard; the Jellicle territory. The air between them filled with the rhythmic sound of chains caught in the wind and hitting against the rusty iron bars that guarded the inner-city rubbish dump from intruders. Or were they locking the inhabitants inside? It could be hard to tell. Grumbuskin recalled wrinkling his nose. The place had smelled of hostility and fear for strangers. Outsiders would not be welcomed with open arms and friendly head-rubbing. _

_Nearby were the drainpipes that lead into the pipe system Bill Bailey had told him all about. It was the easiest way into the junkyard if one knew where to turn, his younger companion had told him somewhere along endless chatter, but now said companion had fallen silent and looked at the previously praised entrance-system disdainfully. Grumbuskin had noticed and even raised an uneven eyebrow at it, but he had refrained to comment upon it. _

_"Don't take what I said to mean anything, because it doesn't", Grumbuskin had told him instead. "Consider everything unsaid and undone". _

_And then he had turned his back and left without another word. _

- - -

Grumbuskin had truly had the worst mindset lately and all he really wished was for everything to return back to normal. But that he suspected was a request coming in a little too late to even be considered something remotely possible to fulfill anymore. Bill Bailey was already caught inside his mind. His contradicting, weird and spaced-out, hyperactive teenage agenda had not been repelled by his immune system like it should have been, but had rather been injected directly into his body when said immune system wasn't looking.

So no, it was not like he had brought this on himself. No, because he was _not_ the one who had started this mess he was in. It was not like he had wanted to bond with that insignificant, little, brown thing. They had never been on speaking terms. He had not even known that Bill Bailey _existed_, yet all of a sudden Bill Bailey had started to show up everywhere with a smug, little grin plastered all over his stupid face and an attitude to save. Their paths had crossed once, by accident. It was just a chance encounter; he had just happened at the time to be ticked off enough to meddle into a brawl, in which a certain male kitten was involved and standing at the winning end. Not that Grumbuskin could have cared any less of who was winning, or who they were period. They had been very loud, they had disturbed a very pleasant afternoon nap and Grumbuskin had been very, very pissed off.

He had never given Bill Bailey any reasons to jump off his goody-two-shoes track and start trailing Grumbuskin's.

But, as he strictly reminded himself as he took a step upon the entrance of his favourite bar, this was not something he wanted to waste time musing on. Tonight was Friday night and he had both the right and reason to be properly wasted by the following morning.

. . .

It was useless to try and deny it anymore. Things were not like before. Something had most definitely _changed_.

Squinting down into the glass and frowning disdainfully at its lack of substance, Grumbuskin suddenly knew he had failed to stay ignorant. Realization (curse its existence) had dawned upon him disguised as a pastime to keep him from growing bored while the barmaid got him another bottle of bourbon, and thus he had found himself _knowing_ certain things he would rather not know.

Before, the younger tom could in the end come and go as he pleased without Grumbuskin minding it as much, but managing to feel perfectly indifferent about it. Oh sure, he had been enjoying Bill Bailey's company for a longer period of time than what could have been expected from teenagers and their fleeting interests in the first place, but he had suspected their socializing to be decreasing as time leisurely passed them by, hence his tolerance. Only it did not. Bill Bailey had for some obscure reason decided to stick around. And stick around he did. There was no getting rid of him. He was like bloody pitch. And (this was the worst part) Grumbuskin could not truthfully say he minded it.

He guessed that if he was feeling out-of-the-ordinarily generous, he could point out exactly when Bill Bailey had ruffled his fur out of shape too. By any chance, it would be the occurrence of an insane moment, the one in which he had been lusting to kiss a rash emotionally overworked-up kitten. The thought alone should have made him furious and kept him severely drunk for days. Only it did not.

So that meant he could obviously also even admit without shame (under extenuating circumstances that involved a rich amount of alcohol) that yes, there had been moments where he had winded up wanting to do him. Another male, a very young male, but shoot him why was that a crime when the other tom looked like a queen and he himself had urges like everyone else and no one else happened to be around? He was a pirate for crying out loud and not some god forlorn saint. What could be expected of him? And it was not like he had gone and _done_ anything anyway.

He had done nothing…

Grumbuskin slipped out his tongue and gave a venomous hiss at an approaching female Siamese, who quickly scattered away from his table. He was getting in a foul mood.

No, what was really bothering him were not desires and guilt or even Bill Bailey because troublesome or not, they had never been a true annoyance. It had to be the fact that he was starting to resent the time he spent alone and preferring company to solitude again. He used to cherish such lonely times once; that was after all why he liked the life on the sea as much as he did.

His love for solitudes had even saved his life the night that was now commonly known as "Growltiger's Last Stand". It had made him steal away to the 'Bell at Hampton' instead of joining his mates in getting wasted beyond their wits. But while he cheered with his temporarily declared comrades and fooled with the barmaids, blissfully unaware of the cruel turns of fate awaiting him, his captain, his ship and his life had been destroyed. He had not put one paw on a ship ever since (and barely a foot out of Hampton).

Maybe he had been a landlubber longer than usual, but that meant nothing. It should not mean anything. He could get hired on any ship he desired. He was no common human-serving mice-hunter, he was a damn good pirate: skilled in sailing and a ruthless fiend headhunted by every captain on the seven seas. Even Growltiger had named himself lucky to have him as first mate. But he liked the bars in this city and old cats get thirsty easily, nothing special about that keeping him back, nothing unnatural. It meant nothing.

- - -

_It really had not meant anything. It had just slipped out of him. Originally intended to be a teasing banter, his own words betrayed him by turning into something else far more dirty and dangerous. _

_Bill Bailey had peeked at Grumbuskin on the sly ever since Grumbuskin had settled himself down next to the chimney that night, lost in reveries of his own and only distantly aware of the small, brown-blended shadow moving around in the corner of his eye. _

"_I like it up here," Bill Bailey said casually. "The stars seem so close they could shine bright enough to blind me". And he had turned towards Grumbuskin in an expectant manner. What he expected exactly neither knew and less addressed, but his green eyes seemed to hold a special shine in them at the point. They were reflecting the moonlight, Grumbuskin had suspected, vaguely remembering a common phrase among Jellicles; something about moonlit eyes and the mark of a Jellicle. _

"_Ay, you're as bad as a queen" Grumbuskin had replied with a sigh, meaning nothing and everything. Bill Bailey had laughed out loud. _

"_And it doesn't even bother you at all. Little queen, usually such sayings insult male pride". _

_Bill Bailey in return had decided replying by shaking his head overbearingly was answer enough and greeted the next moment of silence by turning his attention to the sleeping city underneath the tin-made rooftops. A moment in which Grumbuskin had seized the opportunity he was offered to lose himself in his own thoughts once more. And that was the stage where things had gone from dangerous to ugly. _

"_You know –" Grumbuskin had spoken eventually without really noticing and with a voice coming on all drowsy, like when you have just woken up in the morning and your lips are still numb and your voice rusty, "- if you really were a queen, I wouldn't mind doing you". _

_Bill Bailey had not snapped his head to look pass his shoulder and stare straight at him like this sorry excuse of a torn rag he enjoyed hanging around with had suddenly revealed himself as an utterly mad and perverted fiend in disguise behind his back. He had however been taken completely off-guard. But it didn't last for more than a prolonged quarter minute before his being just slowly calmed and went still for a little while. Then, he had broken into a playful grin (that may have been forced and may have been not) and responded with a voice holding no embarrassment or distaste; "oh, well, shame for you that I am male then". _

_It had been tainted with badinage, curiosity and a youngster's first traces of sexual lust. _

- - -

Grumbuskin ran a distressed paw through his head-fur and grunted in pain when he accidentally pulled out a tangle. Closing his eyes against the cruel vision of pernicious honesty was something he always did and always had and he saw no reason not to do. He did not regret anything and never saw any use of forcing himself to examine things that had been buried years ago. Then why the nasty change? Why the brooding manner?

Why by Triton's old beard did Bill Bailey cause such old sensations to surface his mind again; uneasiness when he could not find him, wonder if he was alright when he was not around and fright for something terrible to happen to him, even when his own sanity screamed that he was only waxing himself in his own foolishness? It just made no sense!

The old door swung open and let in cold night air into the thick, smoke-filled room that smelled of crowds and catnip. But Grumbuskin hardly noticed it. Cats ventured in and out of those doors regularly throughout the night. Some of them more frequent than others. The composition of the assembly shifted too often for anyone to keep track of who was present and who was not. And no one had the face he wanted to see or the soft, brown fur he could remember so very clearly. Knowing all this, his mind easily occupied itself with its own business.

For as long as it lasted.

"Grumbuskin! Me old mate!" Tumblebrutus slapped his back.

Tumblebrutus, the self-proclaimed Peter Pan of Cats. The only other member of the crew who had survived the attack of the Siamese and survived it he did by stealing away to hunt down food in the yard with the Lion statues. Grumbuskin didn't like the reminder his fellow sails-cat brought along; how they were both saved by their guilty pleasures. They had saved their own skins thanks to mice and beer, and their pitiful good-for-nothing gratitude could only be directed to a captain whose eyes went blind on a foreign face. What bravery.

There were beginnings of wrinkles in Tumblebrutus' face and he looked more plush and ragged than Grumbuskin could remember. But the boyish gleam in his eyes was still present and he still carried his back in the same naïve manner that indicated he had somehow managed to live without being the slightest acquainted with life. Checking his own degree of deterioration in an empty bottle, Grumbuskin knew he was a sorry sight. He regarded the neglected fur, the thin and hollow face, the furrows hiding in the corner of narrow eyes. The reflection wisely frowned back at him.

"Looking awful," Tumblebrutus words reflected Grumbuskin's own thoughts and Grumbuskin involuntarily jumped a little. "How long have you been on shore?"

"Some time" Grumbuskin answered truthfully in the nonchalantly, bored fashion he'd learn to pull off whenever he caught himself entertaining uninvited company. This usually included everyone.

"Can't be healthy" Tumblebrutus stated, taking a seat. He did not however strike up any meaningless conversations and mindless 'how do you dos'. Instead he wisely grabbed one of Grumbuskin's half-dried bottles, took one healthy gulp of the stingy liquid and settled with watching the random activities that usually unfolds in a bar (and rarely anywhere else).

Concluding Tumblebrutus wouldn't bother him, Grumbuskin felt himself relax as his mind slipped away into that familiar fog of drowsiness which he had indulged himself with the past hours. It would prove to be a bad mistake.

- - -

_He had been able to tell by the pricking in his neck that Bill Bailey was watching him from afar. And right enough, when he had casually peeked past his shoulder he met a pair of green eyes that dodged his gaze the moment they realized they had been caught red-handed in the crime that was staring. Grumbuskin had seen something in the way Bill Bailey looked at him, something in a weak and vulnerable smile that had made Grumbuskin know that Bill Bailey was just putting up a face and that at heart he was somehow really miserable. Things he had not wanted to know of or consider were he given a choice, but that he now knew. _

_And Grumbuskin had felt at that moment an almost irresistible impulse to turn head-heels, walk over and kiss him senseless. Wipe away that lovelorn expression and forbid it to appear ever again. This powerful force of instinct had seized a hold of him so tightly that not only had it paralyzed all of his sensibility, pride and morals, but it had also taken him ever ounce of willpower that he possessed to discard it. And it had left him a feeling of dissatisfaction tingling uncomfortable in the pit of his stomach. A lack of satisfaction followed suit by a feeling of consuming emptiness.  
Grumbuskin, nothing short of surprised at this change within him, had looked at the slowly leaving tom with confusion. And unnoticed by himself, his own heart skipped a beat. _

- - -

At some point, Tumblebrutus must have had directed his attention to his silent companion once more, for slowly he got a knowing look in his face. "You're involved", he said matter-of-factly.

Grumbuskin only rolled his eyes, not in the mood of playing games. He knew Tumblebrutus' intentions and they were to bother him long enough to provoke a reaction from him. Anything that would spill the milk so he could lap it up. Grumbuskin met the expecting face with a defiant glare. He was not going to indulge Tumblebrutus by participating in silly mind games.

"Is he cute?"

Grumbuskin inhaled his drink and elapsed into a serious coughing fit.

"Oh ho, bull's eye! So I was right then? Aw, you're a funny sight, when in love and all. Aye, now I can swear on Captain's wet grave that I have seen everything there is… you're not killing yourself off right in front of my eyes now, are you?"

"In love…" Grumbuskin snorted, fighting to control his coughing, "gods, you still see love as reason to everything. You were always a softy, Tumblebrutus. Always the good for nothing romantic who cannot part random lust from _eternal love_." The last part was pronounced with mocking sweetness, like the idea alone caused distaste in his mouth. A look of derision crossed his face. "Bet you're even still true to your mate".

- - -

_It was then, __just when Grumbuskin was about to return to his solitude, that this small-built male had stalked intensely after at him, only slowing down his pace a few meters behind. Save an ear with a piece gone missing twitching twice, Grumbuskin had frozen in his motions and thus letting the kitten come up close on him. _

"_What do you want now, kitten?" The last word was emphasized with a hoarse sneer. _

"_Will you come back tomorrow?" _

"…_Sure" _

"_You promise?" _

- - -

"Well, at least I'm an honest good for nothing," Tumblebrutus said and cut off Grumbuskin's train of thoughts. "And that my friend is more than I can say about you and your self-delusions"

Grumbuskin quickly tried to look alert, but in his approaching state of bourbon-made delirium, he failed badly. Instead he felt his body jerk when Tumblebrutus spoke his next words.

"You mate is no longer per definition, what's that human saying again, ah yes - a lone wolf"

"How -" he inquired without managing to conceal his defeat through the alcohol haze, figuring it was too late for it now anyway. His uncontrolled reaction had given himself away nicely.

"Life on shore has really grown on you, huh? When did you become this slow?" Tumblebrutus added as he noticed Grumbuskin's blank stare. "I can smell him on you, you idiot. The scent is so strong I'd easily conclude you've been _friendly_ with him. So what've you done? A little moaning and pounding?"

A faint pink colour appeared in Grumbuskin's shallow cheeks and this time it was evidently not caused by any intact of alcoholic beverage.

"I'm won't even lower myself to answer that!" he scowled and crossed his arms defensively, his tone warning his drinking comrade the topic was now closed and he had better not try to lurk it open.

The gesture made Tumblebrutus laugh out real loud. A few heads turned their way, casting odd glances at the odd pair of windswept (and clearly wasted) cats sitting by themselves in the corner. Or rather, the one getting all the weird looks was the grey tom barking in unrestrained laughter. The other male, whose scowling and low muttering that sounded disturbingly much like self-scolding had made the rest of the bar decide he was better off left alone, was successfully ignored. Had their audience paid him attention, they would have witnessed a damning piece of evidence for their theory. Grumbuskin could at given moment have given anything to be left alone.

"I didn't think so either!"

"Keep your nose where it belongs" Grumbuskin sneered and proceeded with unconcealed greed to drown himself in bourbon.

"And it is right here" Tumblebrutus winked and pointed at his nose, flicking his tongue out at the growling cat in front of him in a playful manner, just like he used to and how he had always done ever since they sailed under the sails of Growltiger.

Grumbuskin could still remember the day that insolent, little kitten had put his first shaky paws on deck. He had badly been trying to cover up his fear and excitement by appearing unaffected and cool. To everyone else on board, he was successfully convincing, even the roughest pirate of them all had fallen for his charms and adopted some sort of disgusting guardian role for him. Tumblebrutus would even have threatened Grumbuskin's position as second-in-command had he not cared to put him in his place. Repeatedly. But Grumbuskin had never thought of him as someone loveable or even as a good pirate. He had thought of him as a little kitten then. And - he thought warily while witnessing Tumblebrutus fling up a paw to wave it around like mad to get the barmaid's attention (not like such drastic means were needed in the first place) and nearly falling off his chair in the procedure - he concluded that he still did.

He reminded him of Bill Bailey…

There came a loud crash from the bar. The female Siamese stood fuming over two younger cats rolling around on the floor among glass shreds and a broken barrel. Somebody shrieked and tried to meddle in, but was effectively pushed away by jeering toms hungry for entertainment. Others sensed trouble and quickly exited the pub to get away in safety before things got too heated.

Tumblebrutus had turned to look at the fuss, joining in the whistling and cheering, but Grumbuskin hardly noticed the loud commotion drawing nearer. Something else huge and tremendous was slowly deeming upon him.

He had become his old boss, so had his latest conclusion sounded. Only Bill Bailey was nothing like the white-puffed, egocentric lady who had sent his stoic captain to eternal rest as pitiful as a drowned rat. Bill Bailey had no skill in flaunting sensuality or sexuality. He was a stupid kitten; a stupid, stupid, damn gorgeous kitten.

And that was it. That was what had bothered him so.

He had simply lost his mind.

-fin-


End file.
